


The Broken Pieces

by BuckyBarnes8999



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Bloodplay, Frottage, M/M, Past Underage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyBarnes8999/pseuds/BuckyBarnes8999
Summary: Curtis' muscles flex as he keeps the face of the man buried in the filthy mattress.His hips piston forward."Shh, shh, Edgar." He coos, his voice at odds with the way he's taking the young man beneath him. Brutal, rough, selfishly.
Relationships: Edgar/Curtis Everett
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	The Broken Pieces

Curtis' muscles flex as he keeps the face of the man buried in the filthy mattress.   
His hips piston forward.   
"Shh, shh, Edgar." He coos, his voice at odds with the way he's taking the young man beneath him. Brutal, rough, selfishly.

In the half light he watches his cock disappearing into the stretched-tight ring of pink muscle. He takes Edgar like he wants to consume him, like he can crawl inside him, into his soul. 

They'd been doing this for longer than would be morally decent-- longer than would have even been _legal_ in the old world.  
But the Tail Section was not the old world and Curtis had waited at least until he was sixteen. Though he'd woken up numerous times and had to extract the boy from his bunk, send him back to his own with a stern look and a swat of his hand. 

Edgar cried the first time. Not from pain or discomfort though there was surely some of that. He cried, gasping that they'd waited too long, that his very soul needed this with Curtis.  
"Coulda 'ad me soon as 'm balls dropped! I been gagging for ya." Edgar had stated bold as brass to which Curtis replied:  
"Don't talk like that, it's sick." Even as he cleaned his load out of Edgar with his tongue. 

There were times when things got violent and unhealthy between them. There was a touch of fanaticism in Edgar in regards to Curtis, that lead him to eagerly take whatever the older man could dish out. Sometimes that meant his frustrations instead of just his lust. 

Now was one of those frustrated times. There had been little prep and they hadn't even moved to Curtis' more private bunk.   
It was an unspoken rule in the Tail Section to ignore what you heard in the night, to ignore moans and declarations and gasps and cries. People ignored screams just as well.

Curtis' long fingers curled around the front of Edgar's throat even as he held onto the back of his neck. The tips of those fingers dug into Edgar's pulse points, dug into fresh angry marks left by Curtis' mouth.   
The moan Edgar let out was barely muffled by the thin, shitty mattress. The bunk creaked violently as this spurred Curtis to fuck him harder, his one hand kept Edgar's hips from touching the mattress. When the younger man pushed greedily back on him, Curtis knew what he was silently begging for.   
_Touch my cock, please, Curtis, please._ was what the motion said.  
And to that Curtis leaned in and whispered harshly in his ear. "You can cum on my cock, nothing else, or you don't cum at all."   
This lead Edgar to raise his ass and spread his thighs wider.  
When Curtis let him up to breathe he gasped out "oh fuckin' 'ell Curtis, make me cum on yer cock." 

And there's some part of Curtis, a dark, unsavory part of him that _doesn't_ want to make Edgar cum. Perhaps it was that same part, dark and hungry that had almost lead Curtis to eat Edgar all those years ago.  
There's a part that wants to take him, mark him inside and tell him not to touch himself, deny him any release, to watch his hard cock twitch with need and go unsated. And that part is possessiveness, that part is the one that loves the hold he has on the young man.

The excitement was in knowing Edgar would follow his orders to the letter. That Edgar would suffer for him. 

It's Curtis biting down hard on the meat of his shoulder that actually sends Edgar over the edge and first at that. The tang of iron floods Curtis' mouth and he sinks his teeth in harder, tasting his boy. Edgar sobs and keens through it, ever rocking his hips back on Curtis as he keeps fucking into him. 

There are a number of scars in the shape of Curtis' teeth, his erotic dental record, scattered over Edgar's body. This new wound is layered over others. This was a favorite spot for Curtis to sink his teeth.

"More!" Edgar sobbed out, reaching his shaking hand back and gripping onto Curtis' sweaty arm. 

"A-ahh!" He practically screamed when Curtis' mouth left his shoulder to bite the base of his neck. "Curtis!"   
The smaller man's spent dick twitches painfully as it tries to fill again. This time he does rut against the mattress, sliding his aching flesh through his own mess. The lines are blurred for the young man, between pleasure and pain. It makes him a dangerous man. It makes him feel invincible in a fight.  
How many times has he practically jumped Curtis' bones while they sparred? Countless is what Edgar would have answered. The same was true for how many times the older man had had to drag him away from sparring with one of the others. 

Curtis sucks hard on the bleeding wound, moaning into ripped flesh. "You taste better than protein bars." He purrs with bloodied lips as he finally lets go. 

Edgar uses all his strength to dislodge the cock in his ass and roll onto his back in the tight space. "Have me like this." He groans, hiking his legs up and around Curtis' waist. "please." 

They don't often fuck face to face just as they don't often kiss.   
Curtis kisses him now, blood still sluggishly dripping from his chin. Edgar moans at the taste of his own blood on Curtis. He'd happily let the man consume him.   
"You're getting hard for me again." Curtis says, nosing into Edgar's neck, kissing along the heated flesh, tasting the salt of his sweat.   
He doesn't attempt to fuck back into the young man. Instead he shifts his hips and ruts down hard against Edgar's overly sensitive cock. The younger man arches his back, choking out a gutted sound. But, his hips move eagerly along with Curtis' own. Their slick cocks slipping along one another in a heated frenzy.   
"One day--ah fuck, Curtis! -- one day you're gonna run this bleedin' train. Fuh-fuck! And I'm gonna be-- nh! Oh yes Curtis! Gonna be right there 't fuckin-- oh, fuck harder! Gonna be right there 't bash anyone's brains in who crosses ya. I'm g--mmh!"   
Curtis cuts off the younger mans ceaseless stream of words with his own mouth, biting hard into his lower lip.   
With Edgar distracted by the rough kiss he lifts the man's ass and shifts a little so he can roughly push back inside him.   
Edgar is a vision when he's impaled on cock and bloody from Curtis' mouth. Though Curtis never tells him that. It isn't in their nature anymore. Certainly not in Curtis'. There wasn't any room for romance and sweet declarations in The Tail Section for Curtis Everett.   
Maybe Edgar deserved all that but it wasn't something he could give. He could carve out his feelings with his cock and teeth though.  
Now, fucking face to face, Edgar goes sweet and docile. He wraps his arms around Curtis and rocks with his motions. 

It's such tight quarters, Edgar's cock, trapped between their bodies, leaks steadily-- fuck, the young man is so eager for Curtis. Curtis thinks that maybe he could have made something of them in another world, another time. But it is the Train that put them here together, the Train that encompasses anything they are and ever will be. They both know the importance of getting to the Front. 

It's with a subdued cry that Curtis spills into his boy. Edgar receives it with reverence. He works his own ass over Curtis with the skill of a trained whore, muscles clenching and milking him.   
Curtis' eyes roll back and he lets himself let go, get lost in it, in the feeling of his boy around his cock. He fucks him hard through his orgasm, riding the waves of it. 

Curtis is beautiful like this. The lines of care and worry are smoothed, his long eyelashes, soft against his cheek. His bloodied lips are parted and he doesn't seem to realize how he's letting pretty whimpers crawl free from his throat. 

Edgar knows he loves Curtis. This time when Curtis pulls out and goes to leave he grabs his hand. "Stay." He pleads, brows knit together.   
Curtis looks like he's considering it for a moment, his eyes slightly panicked.  
He swallows, Adams apple bobbing with the motion as his gaze drops from Edgar's.   
"You know better." He says and it sounds like the flesh that makes up his vocal cords has turned to sandpaper. He wrenches his hand free and crams his hat down over his close cropped hair. 

Then he's gone, like every night, like every goddamn night. Edgar is alone but so is Curtis and it is a torture of Curtis' own making. He knows one day he might have to go without Edgar and vice versa. Best not to deepen it, best not to let their selves feel anything. They had a purpose, a destiny.


End file.
